


Reign of Dragons

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Bisexual Daenerys Targaryen, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Incest, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Pre-OT3, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 22:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16458302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The last two Targaryens reign over a war-ravaged Westeros in a winter with no end in sight.





	Reign of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Longerclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longerclaw/gifts), [ssjmrxi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssjmrxi/gifts), [sadvos (AzorHotpie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzorHotpie/gifts).



> This is a repost of my story Reign of Dragons. I received comments from a number of users that they were disappointed that I pulled the story so I decided to repost the first two chapters as one.

**Jon**

The cold was fierce this high in the sky. Not even his thick furs could shield him entirely from its bite. His long cloak billowed behind as Urrax took a sharp turn, his large wings cut through the fierce storm with ease. Even this far south the snow fell in torrents, covering the fused black walls of obsidian that composed Dragonstone like a thick blanket. Smoke rose from the volcanic mountain Dragonstone was carved into, like a shifting dark snake in a sea of white. His very first site of the castle had been foreboding but it had been home for a few years now and the promise of the warmth inside and seeing his queen again was enough for Jon to press Urrax to fly faster.

They flew over the bay, low enough that the smallfolk could see him if they weren’t sheltering within their homes to wait out the storm. Winter had fallen years ago and even the Maesters had trouble determining when a storm could end. They never truly did, not entirely, snow fall usually abated long enough for work to be done before it picked up again and drove you back inside.

Urrax gave an announcing roar as they drew closer to the Castle. Jon chanced scanning the skies to see if Drogon or Rhaegal would answer and cursed as his hood and face covering scarf were nearly blown off. Unlike Urrax, Daenerys’ dragons hated the cold storms. Being fire-made flesh, they were impervious to most dangers of the cold, but the wind and ice made them slower and weaker. Urrax had no such issue. An ice dragon craved the cold and even radiated it, hence Jon’s thick coverings. No matter how much Daenerys joked, Jon needed heat nearly as much as her.

Urrax pulled level with the massive dragon-doors of the throne room. They were fifty feet tall and nearly as wide. Made of the same smooth black stone as the rest of the castle, they were carved so the center of the door formed the eyelids of the face of a massive stone dragon that this section of the castle was in the shape of. The doors were well over a thousand pounds and Jon doubted he could move them by himself, but the runes carved into the stone glowed a dull red and like magic the doors slid open.

His dragon hovered ten feet above the ledge, flapping his massive cerulean wings as Jon unstrapped his legs from Urrax's saddle and grabbed the rope anchored around Urrax's horns to slide down on the ledge. He hurried into the throne room, so he wasn’t blown off the ledge by the force of Urrax's wing beats and the gale of the storm.

The white and blue dragon disappeared back to the heavens with a single powerful sweep of his wings. His coloring was like camouflage and the dragon disappeared in instant. Jon knew that Urrax was likely bound for the Shivering Sea to compete with the Ibbense in their hunt of leviathans.

Entering the throne room was like stepping into a furnace and immediately his hands and toes which had gone slightly numb from his journey began to tingle as feeling returned to them. The heat was in no small part due to the massive dragons who were lying in the room. Rhaegal who was the closest to the door that Jon had entered, turned his long neck to regard Jon. Amber eyes filled with inquisition stared at Jon and the dragon turned his head as if to ask _where were you?_

Jon pulled off the thick glove covering his right hand and extended his arm to stroke Rhaegal’s muzzle. The green beast hummed in delight at the touch.

The sound of scales scrapping on the stone echoed throughout the chambers and Drogon peaked over the stone throne to regard Jon. The black dragon looked like a beast of nightmares, red eyes the color of blood and a head so large that a horse and rider could ride down its snout. He was the largest of their three dragons, eighty feet long and still growing with wings wider still. Jon waved at the beast and the dragon nearly climbed over the throne to greet him.

There were gasps that came with Drogon’s sudden rising but the dragon’s advance was stopped short by a commanding voice. “Drogon.” Daenerys warned. The dragon looked back at Jon almost mournfully but listened to his mother and settled back down on the other side of the throne. Jon walked around Rhaegal’s bulk to stand in front of the throne.

Dragonstone’s throne room wasn’t as large as the one in King’s Landing had been, but it was still built to massive proportions. The ceilings were over a hundred feet high and the room was roughly circular with other doors that opened to ledges that were used as landing points for dragonriders of old. The room was large enough to hold a court of a dozen mid-sized dragons but currently housed two and a hundred or so court goers.

The throne was a jagged, spiked thing, carved of black obsidian. The seat sat ten feet high off the ground with stone steps that led up to the chair, made smooth by the years and use. His wife leaned on the throne a fist tucked under her chin and her legs were crossed and outstretched. She was clad in a black scaled battle dress. A red cape was tucked under her, on its back was the sigil of their house. Her silver hair was done in braids, so long that tips reached passed her knees. On her head sat a crown of Valyrian steel, spiked so that metal teeth caressed her temple and the top barbed points added inches to her height.

A smile appeared on her lips at the sight of him and Jon felt the same tug at his heart that was reminiscent of when he first laid eyes on her. Her lilac eyes turned to regard the crowd. “Ah it seems the king has decided to join us. You are in luck; King Aemon can decide on your fate.”

Eyes widened in the crowd and it was comical as at once there was a scramble to take a knee. _I still don’t see why she insist on this._ His wife appreciated the spectacle. The crown, the dragons resting by her side as she addressed the court, though they did provide enough heat that only the braziers near the back of the room needed to be lit. She wore armor at his suggestion though. Seeing his Queen dressed like Queen Rhaenys had been during the conquest was a sight Jon enjoyed immensely.  He didn’t blame the court for not recognizing him. In his thick furs, covered in frost, Jon looked more like a savage Northman than a king

“All hail His Grace, King Aemon of Houses Targaryen and Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” The Royal Steward hastily announced.

Jon nodded impatiently and then waited until an appropriate amount of time to pass before he bid the court to rise. His brief time as King in the North hadn’t made him comfortable with people kneeling, and he would have done away with the tradition all together if it wasn’t for Daenerys’ insistence. _Appearances must be maintained my love. The crown only holds power if the people believe it does._ His wife’s words echoed in his head.

 _Speaking of my wife._ Jon thought as he climbed the steps of the throne to greet her. The little nymph smiled at him, the upturn of her lips was seductive enough that Jon wanted to dismiss the court and take her where she sat. _Or Drogon’s wings could provide the necessary cover._ It was tempting but Jon settled for his wife’s lips.

Their kiss was brief but fierce and when they parted Jon was delighted to see the familiar fire in his wife’s eyes that he had grown to miss in his month-long absence. “My Queen” he whispered into her ear.

“My King.” She answered and then tugged onto his locks to drag his lips back to hers. This kiss was longer, passionate, a kiss of two lovers who desperately needed to be reacquainted. Not even Jon’s modesty could prevent him from indulging in the taste of his wife’s lips and soon his hands were working in her hair to caress her crown and scalp.

A cough reminded the two of where they were and their audience. Tyrion stood at the base of the throne and Jon smiled sheepishly, realizing that in his haste to greet his wife he ignored their Hand. The dwarf’s smile was knowing, and Jon knew no true offense had been given.

“Back to the matter at hand. If you will your Graces?”

Jon nodded a bit flustered and too hot in his furs. _Appearances must be maintained._ Daenerys took his hand in her own and her thumb stroked his along the back of his palm. The urge was strong to take her place on the throne and pull his wife into his lap. Despite her grand appearance, the Dragon Queen, was a small woman barely five and a half feet tall. She was more beautiful than any woman had the right to be and so Jon understood her emphasis on appearances. Ignorant men looked at Daenerys and saw a Lyseni bed slave rather than the conqueror his wife truly was.

“This man here is requesting on behalf of the Lyseni magisters to reinstall the practice of slavery.” Daenerys stretched her right leg and used the toe of her polished boot to point at the man still kneeling in front of the throne.

He looked small though maybe it was a trick of his posture. His clothes were opulent, made of silks and on each finger the man wore a different colored jeweled ring. He was heavy set, though not obese. _Exactly not the type of man you should send to negotiate with my wife. “_ Not slavery your Grace.” The man protested, apparently gathering his courage at the sight of Jon. His eyes looked to Jon instead of Daenerys. Perhaps, he thought Jon would be more amenable to his request.

Daenerys had cut a bloody path on her road to Westeros. The Old Blood of Volantis had raised a massive fleet of ships, with nearly forty thousand men to take the city of Meereen by force. At the time of their launch, Daenerys had been in the Dothraki Sea but when the fleet had reached the Bay of Dragons, Daenerys descended upon them on Drogon’s back with a hundred thousand Dothraki behind her.

That began her march west and Daenerys had sought to end slavery on the continent of Essos for all eternity. Tyrosh, Lys and Myr had briefly united to oppose her but the slaves revolted like they had done in Yunkai at the sight of Daenerys’ forces and her dragons.

The Long Night and the threat of the Others had occupied the ruling pairs’ attention for some time and in Daenerys’ absences the Merchant lords had taken up slavery again. It was a mistake on their part for the world soon would learn that there was not one but two Targaryens in the world and two dragon riders. The sight of an ice dragon and two fire breathing dragons was enough for the lords to abandon their open practice of slavery, but they occasionally sent envoys to plead.

“And if not slavery, then what do you ask for?” Jon spoke. It was moot at this point. Their answer would always be the same, but Daenerys liked offering the rich men hope before she crushed it.

The envoy’s voice was stronger now. Apparently, he saw the inquisition as a legitimate one to plead his case. “My people simply ask for the opportunity to establish a legitimate business. Lys was founded by your ancestors as a pleasurable escape from the troubles of the world. Something this devastated landscape desperately needs. Our women and men will be paid accordingly.”

Jon turned to his wife and saw the beginnings of a scowl. She was truly a revolutionary and ending slavery for good had been her quest. “No.” She growled out.

The man flinched at her tone but looked to Jon. “Slavery is built into the blood of Essos, it has existed for thousands of years. Lasting longer than the Freehold itself. Our people have been shaped by it, our societies molded, and our economies dependent upon it. Yet, we have listened to your word and will. We are willing to change but change needs time and the people of Lys are suffering. I implore your Graces, to see reason and come to a compromise.”

Even Tyrion looked swayed by the man’s elegant act of supplication. Jon squeezed Daenerys’ hand and answered. “We expect a detailed proposal before we agree to anything.” Daenerys paused and then nodded in silent agreement.

The envoy dropped his head in a deep bow. “Thank you. I expected no less and look forward to further discussions.”

The next petitioner stepped forward to the throne, but Jon intervened before they could continue. “Tyrion would you mind taking it from here? The Queen is tired, as am I.”

The meaning wasn’t lost on anyone in the room and Tyrion merely shook his head. “Yes, your Grace. I would be delighted.”

Daenerys had the grace to snort but took his offered hand and they descended the steps of the throne together. She turned to her dragons. “Sōvegon.” They stirred at her command and exited the throne room through the two doors behind the throne. A gust of wind and snow blasted into the throne room as the doors opened and the temperature dropped immediately by the departure of the dragons. Two stewards raced to light the rest of the braziers in the throne room.

Their Kingsguard immediately formed an escort and Jon and Daenerys exited. Once they were outside of the throne room Jon pulled his wife into him, claiming her lips with the intensity that he had wanted. She met him with the same passion. Her fingers dug into his furs and she lifted on her toes to meet him. “Its been too long.” Jon growled out. Her battledress made her look as formidable as she was beautiful, but it prevented him from feeling the curves he had been dreaming about in their month apart.

“How was Winterfell?” Daenerys asked, leading him to their shared chambers. Nearly every brazier in the castle was lit and the fortress sat on a dormant volcano, but it could never be considered comfortable. His wife pulled his arm around her shoulders and leaned into his side for comfort as they walked.

“Cold.” Jon offered and then winced as Daenerys worked her hand under his furs to pinch his side. “Ow. Okay Sansa and Rickon are doing well. They both have letters for you as well.” Jon let out. Sometimes he forgot that women needed to talk so much.

“Better. I can’t wait to read them.” Daenerys smiled. He had been nervous when Daenerys met the surviving members of his family. Sansa had returned to the North as a fierce and devastatingly effective political player, Rickon had returned nearly savage from his time in Skagos. Jon’s reign as King in the North had been bloody, violent and short. He had ceded his Kingship to Rickon once Davos had returned with his brother from Skagos. Sansa came back to the North after engineering a plot in the Vale that exposed Petyr Baelish’s intentions to kill Robin Arryn. Keeping the North independent had meant so much to Sansa and when Daenerys landed in Westeros, Jon had feared the two would hate each other. Now, a mountain of letters had been exchanged between both.

Jon flew North every few months to offer aid and counsel to Sansa who was serving as Rickon’s regent. Nearly the entire North had been evacuated in the Battle for the Dawn and now the North was inhabited mostly by Freefolk and the surviving giant clans. Sansa managed distributing the aid from Braavos admirably but sometimes the sight of Urrax was needed to remind the Freefolk of their submission under his brother’s rule. Daenerys’ rarely accompanied him, in part because their broken kingdom nearly fell apart without the sight of two of their three dragons in the skies. In addition, Jon didn’t want to risk his wife getting frostbite.

When they reached their quarters, Jon barely had time to close their door before Daenerys was on him. She dug her hands into his furs and bodily pulled him into her. Their kiss was fierce and a well of desire filled Jon as Daenerys dragged his bottom lip into her mouth by her teeth. Her hands worked deftly and soon he was bare chested as his thick covering dropped on the floor.

Daenerys’ small hands traced a familiar pattern across his chest. No matter how many times she had seen him uncovered, her small fingers still traced the seven large scars. They were ugly reminders of his betrayal by the hands of his sworn brothers, but his wife had confessed how much she liked them. _You were brought back for me._ She had told him. He agreed.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. “I want you.” Her voice was husky. Thick with emotion and filled with promise. White teeth worried a full lip as he brushed her hair. Her hand rose in mirror and tugged the tie holding his hair in a high bun. Black locks with silver streaks spilled out to frame his face and brush his shoulders.

“Soon.” Jon answered but he batted her hands away from the ties of his breeches and stepped behind his wife to take off her armor. It was almost as priceless as the Valyrian Steel armor he had taken from the corpse of Euron Greyjoy. Daenerys in her passion had habit of slipping out of the armor and left it on the floor like it was a pile of rags. The warrior in Jon couldn’t let the blasphemy happen.

Dark scale slid away to reveal smooth alabaster skin. Winter had stolen any of the tan that his wife had gained from her time under the Essosi sun, and she was nearly as pale as him. He kissed her shoulder and then her neck. His hand brushed her hair away and he kissed down her spine.

“Jon.” Dany hummed. “I thought you were undressing me, not seducing me?” He caught the armored shirt before it could drop and moved to hang it on the rack across the room. Her armor came in three parts. The outer shirt and battle dress and an under skin made of tough, warm, and incredibly strong fabric. Part of the reason why he was so careful with Daenerys’ armor was because it was the only one they had. The scaled armor was lighter than steel and nearly as strong. The underlayer, while thin, was insulated enough that Daenerys could comfortably ride on the back of Drogon in a snowstorm. It was likely one of Queen Rhaenys’ spare suits, hidden in a vault that the Baratheon regime hadn’t reached, and remained preserved through time.

Daenerys looked impatient waiting for him to pull off her armor, piece by piece and then hang it on the rack but she didn’t rush. Once he had her naked, gloriously naked, smooth curves, high breast capped with small pink nipples, already hard from arousal, Daenerys moved to take off her crown. Jon hastily stopped her. “Leave it please.”

She shot a knowing look at him and posed with her crown. Her hair was loose at the scalp but the length of it was tied into thick complex braids that trailed to the back of her knees. The crown on her head gave her the look of a goddess. Blood of Old Valyria made her look like the dragon princesses of old. His mouth watered.

Daenerys knew the effect she had on him and tilted her hips side to side. His wife was no warrior in the traditional sense, but her belly was flat and toned and the muscular curvature of her calves and thighs was evident. She posed for him, turning this way and that. Looking over her shoulder as she put her back to him, she spread her legs and bent at the waist, wiggling her backside. Between her round cheeks Jon glimpsed the petals of her cunt, already spread with desire, and the crinkled skin of her rosebud.

He lunged at her, but Daenerys anticipated his motion and turned before he could reach. Jon gripped her hips and their lips crashed into each other again. It was a duel this time, a quest for dominance and a reestablishment of their love and desire. A month was too long to be away, and Jon knew that he would fill his wife many times tonight.

Daenerys soft hands traveled up his back, her finger gripped the blades of his scapula and she used the precarious handholds to crawl up. Jon helped her way and grabbed the cheeks of her ass, lifting her so that her legs could wrap around his waist. Still he supported her, and his hands kneaded her cheeks while their mouths broke apart and Daenerys traced the column of his neck with her teeth and tongue.

“I missed you my King.” Daenerys voiced between bites and sucks. She was marking him as she often did after his extended journeys. Her hands were on his shoulders now.

“Dany.” He protested but the action was made empty when he lifted his chin to give her greater access. She pulled off once his neck had a satisfactory number of bites and looked into his eyes.

“Did you miss me?” She asked and then placed a peck on his lips.

Jon nodded eagerly. “You know I did. I thought about you every day. A king needs his queen.”

Daenerys made a motion with her hips and Jon released his grip on her, so she slid down to her feet. They had made their chambers more livable with thick woolen rugs and furs to cover the stone floor. It was the room every Lord of Dragonstone since Aenys the Exile had slept in. A large room with the same Valyrian stone work that styled the castle spersed throughout. Even the frame of their bed was coiled into the shape of a dragon’s maw.

“Does he?” Daenerys asked. Her hands quickly untied his trousers and then her little feet were sliding the furs down his legs. He had barely stepped out of the trousers when his smallclothes followed. Daenerys gripped his length. It was already full mast, thick and red, and it wept as her hand circled around it. “How much? As much as his queen misses him?”

Jon met Daenerys’ gaze, moaning lightly as she began her gentle strokes. “I missed you more. Dany”

“Really?” Her right hand squeezed the base of his cock and the left spread the precum gathering at his tip. “Do you know what not seeing you for so long does to your wife? It makes her want to be very bad for you.”

“Fuck Dany.” Jon breathed. His hands gripped a cheek of her ass and he couldn’t resist brushing her rosebud with his finger. Daenerys squeaked, an innocent sound that contrasted with her wanton appearance, but she didn’t pull away.

“Mmm.. Do you want your wife to be bad?” She was using both hands to stroke him now. They worked in opposing circular motions while she rubbed the tip of his cock on her belly.

“Yes Dany. I want you to be bad for me.” He was thrusting into her fists and already his balls were tightening. Normally her dry hands weren’t enough to finish him, but Daenerys had wanted him to abstain for the month he was gone so that their reunion would be even more special.

“How bad? Do you want your aunt on her knees for you? Do you want her mouth on you while she wears her crown?”

Jon nodded eagerly. The lust had made him simple and mute, but Daenerys smiled all the same and dropped to her knees.

The sight of her made him throb with lust and his heart fill with guilt. His death and brief time in Ghost’s body had made the desires that were easier to ignore as Lord Commander almost impossible after his resurrection. He had abandoned his honor in his quest for vengeance and had taken whores and wildling lovers to fill the hole in his being. Only Daenerys managed to complete him. She made him a better man but the desire that he had for her was almost unnatural _She’s a queen not my whore. My wife. My beautiful wife._ He reminded himself less he lose control.

Daenerys was unaware of his struggle. Of how her teasing and beauty made him want to dominate her. To make her his alpha bitch. Strong, yet obedient to his word.

Her teasing continued. “Tell me what you want Nephew. Tell your aunt what to do.” She rubbed the tip of the cock against her closed lips. The first inch of him slipped through her lips and it took all the willpower Jon had to not shove the other seven past her lips.

“Suck me Dany.” He voiced. Her eyes lit up with delight and then mischief.

“You want your aunt to suck you? Naughty Jon.”

“Fuck Dany. Yes please.” Jon pleaded. She was kissing along his length.

“Say it.” She growled out. Her grip on his cock was firm and the thumb teased the sensitive underside of his head. She kept his cock close to her face so that every breath settled on his length. A reminder of her sweet hot mouth that he could soon plunder if he said her words.

“Your nephew wants his aunt to suck him. To swallow his cock and taste his seed. To… Oh Fuck.”

Daenerys was inflamed by his words and her head bobbed to take half of him in a single plunge. Her mouth was a wet, hot furnace and her lips pressed against the skin of his cock. Her tongue played with the veins on the underside of his length. Jon groaned with delight and despite his intentions his hand came to rest on the back of her head.

His wife moaned in appreciation and pulled off of him with a wet suck. “Gods, you taste good. Do you like it?” The hand that wasn’t stroking him traced up his leg to grip his sack. It was tight and nearly flush with his body. “Yes, you do. Are you already close?”

Jon snorted at her surprise. “Its been a month and I listened to you. I haven’t cum since I was last here.”

Daenerys smiled in delight. “Not even an accident in bed?”

Jon blushed. “I am no boy.”

His wife nuzzled her nose into the dark curls above his cock. “No, you are a man. My man.” She pulled him back between her lips. This time she focused on the head of his length bobbing so her lips slid just past the crest of his head while her hands worked the rest.

His eyes slid shut and his head tilted back as he lost himself in the sensation.

Daenerys halted. “Look at me. I want to see your face when you cum in my mouth.” Jon obeyed, watching as his aunt slid his cock back between her lips. Her eyes looked to his, ensuring he obeyed her order.

She was devastatingly beautiful on her knees for him with her crown on top of her head, but the object got in the way of his view. He carefully removed it from her. It was solid Valyrian steel, priceless and worth almost as much as Dark Sister. He threw it across the room. Daenerys moved to pull off of him, but he tugged gently on a lock of her hair to keep her lips on his length. She rolled her eyes but obeyed.

Perhaps in response to his throwing of her crown or just due to her general mischievous nature, Daenerys took him deep into her mouth. So deep that his head pressed against the entrance of her throat. Try as she might, Daenerys couldn’t take all of him and there was at least two inches that weren’t encased behind her lips.

It didn’t matter in the end and a powerful surge of pleasure rolled through Jon, starting in his sack, still cupped in Daenerys’ hand, and then it traveled up his length, swelling it so that he was as large as he could ever be.

Daenerys’ eyes were hooded with pleasure, but she saw the sign of his impending release before he could warn her. Her lips pulled back to the crown of his tip and her hand worked the length that was slick with her saliva.

A month away from Daenerys heightened the sensation that followed every move she made, and Jon bit his lip as he came harder than he could remember. Daenerys sucked as his tip and her hand worked with each pulse that rolled through his cock, so it felt like each was as big as the last. There were five heavy pulses that made Jon’s knees weak and then a litany of smaller ones that only added to his pleasure. The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms swallowed all he could give her.

Her mouth never left him, and her sucks were gentle enough that the pleasure wasn’t too intense. Her hand abandoned his sack and then went around his hip to grab a cheek of his ass. He followed her silent command and stepped closer to her, another moan escaped his lips as she pulled his cock deeper.

Daenerys was insistent and due to her ministrations, even if it felt as if she had sucked the soul out of his body, Jon never went soft. Soon he was hard as iron, like before.

“Dany baby.” Jon said and pulled his wife up off her knees to claim her lips. He didn’t have to help her this time and she jumped to wrap her legs around his waist again.

“I want you Jon. Take me please.” She whined. He loved when Daenerys let her need be known. Fierceness and even ruthlessness had become his wife’s ruling persona, but Jon loved the woman underneath as much as he respected the queen who ruled.

“I want to you eat you baby.” Jon mumbled against her lips. Already her hips were moving against his and he felt her hand reach to make a grab for his cock.

“You can do that later. I know you want to spend hours between my thighs, but I need to be full of you.”

Her words sent another surge of desire through him and Jon listened to his queen, walking both to their bed. Daenerys pulled him down with her when he tried depositing her and Jon nearly speared into her. Instead Jon’s cock brushed against her clit and the shaft slapped between her wet lips. Daenerys hissed at the sensation and her hand reached down with the intent of directing him into her. Jon was faster though and pulled away before she could get him.

“Jon please. Fuck me.” Daenerys pleaded.

“I will baby, I want to kiss you first. Is that okay? Can your nephew kiss his aunt’s body before he fucks her?” Jon asked.

Daenerys nodded and bit her lip as he traced down her body. He started at her collarbone, kissing laterally across the bone before making way to her breasts. They had grown bigger since he had been first graced by the sight of them. Large and milky white but her pink nipples had grown paler over the years and her areolae covered more of her breast than before. Jon had religiously watched every change in her body as his queen matured.  He knew that her breasts were more sensitive more sensitive on the underside and so his hands lifted the globes, so his lips could kiss the hidden skin. He knew that while she liked when he sucked on her nipples, what truly set her off was when he teased the buds between his teeth. And so, he did, listening and watching with great satisfaction as his wife voiced her great appreciation.

As he paid homage to her form. His wife traced her toes down his legs. The move was a subtle sign that told him while she was enjoying what he was doing, she was anxious for more. It had taken him months to correctly read the sign but once he had, Jon knew what to do. _Bastards must be attentive._ Jon mused. _Especially when servicing the queen._

He abandoned her breast and kissed down her stomach. She wriggled impatiently, and he paused. “Oh, so you do want me to eat you now.” He grinned up at her.

Daenerys smiled wildly. “Well there is no stopping you, is there?”

Jon shook his head. “No, I need my feast. Now spread your legs. Your King commands it.”  

His wife obliged, first sitting up so she could tuck a group of pillows behind her into a rest against the headboard, she did love to watch, and then spread her thighs so that the flats of her feet were pressed against their red sheets. Jon assumed his position between her thighs. His hands gripped her the back of her thighs, spreading them, so he could have greater access. Before he went south, Jon placed a kiss to the single scar on her abdomen. It was a thin scar, raised like a burn, caused by a slender blade of ice. Daenerys shivered at the touch and they shared a brief look of understanding.

His nose was the pioneer. Nuzzling in the forest of her silver curls. Her pubic hair was nearly as soft as the hair on her head. “Jon.” Daenerys moaned in anticipation. Her hand found the top of his head and gave him a firm push in the direction he wanted. Jon laughed but didn’t resist the motion.

This close to her center, Jon could smell her musk. The smell and the taste of his wife was worth the effort, even if he didn’t enjoy feasting on her as much as he did. He pressed his nose against her center, nuzzling her clit before his lips and then tongue kissed a bit lower to part her folds.

The desire to dominate his wife was an urge he often resisted, but the need to worship her was something he often indulged in. Plenty of men had sung tales of his wife’s beauty, danced to her tune, and even died for her cause but none had worshipped her like he did. Daenerys was a living goddess and Jon made sure that she felt his devotion every time his head was between her thighs.

The first taste of her was always the sweetest and this time was no different. Daenerys bathed every day so usually there was a faint sweetness to her juices that he enjoyed but if he ate her before her evening bath then there was the slightest tinge of salt from her sweat. He enjoyed that taste more than any other and briefly he lost himself. His tongue dove into her center as deep as possible and then his lips followed as he lapped at her core. Daenerys widened her legs even more and her hand pulled his face flush against her.

“Eat me.” She breathed. “Fuck, so good Jon!”

Jon regained his composure and abandoned his ravenous licks from a more tactful approach. His queen loved when he traced her clit with tongue, with the occasional dive between her folds, and so Jon did just that. Normally he would tease his queen with long slow licks that drew out her pleasure but ensured she didn’t finish before he was sated on her juices. Now though his tongue was insistent on her clit, never leaving, short flicks that drove her insane. His fingers followed. First one then two.

She was as wet as a river after an autumn storm, her juices gushed around his fingers and his tongue was greedily lapping up whatever he could. He didn’t thrust his fingers much, instead he focused on the rough bundle of nerves at the top of her channel rubbing in constant circles as his tongue did the same to her clit. It was only minutes before Daenerys came with a scream.

Her orgasms were always strong, traveling through her entire body. It appeared that their time apart had affected his queen as well and her legs shook, while her cute toes clenched in pleasure. Her spine was arched, and she had one hand dug into the sheets while the other anchored his head to her center. Perhaps, she was afraid that he would leave but Jon knew how to extend her orgasm. He slowed the pace of his thrusting fingers according to the intensity of her spasms. His tongue drew lighter patterns across Daenerys’ clit. Finally, he pulled away from her core with a kiss once she had settled.

Jon slid into her in a single motion. Normally, he would wait but seeing his queen with her legs spread, fresh after an orgasm broke his will. He pressed down into her until his sack rested on her ass. Daenerys wrapped her legs and arms around him.

“Jon. Oh, I feel so full.”

Jon grinned at her and answered with rhythmic thrusts. Daenerys whined at the sensations. He knew that her orgasm made her more sensitive and a few touches to her clit would have her cumming for him again. Jon avoided doing just that, focusing on his own pleasure. He tried taking her slow, knowing that if they went fast too quickly then Daenerys would be too satisfied to continue but his queen was greedy.

“Fuck me fast, my King. I need you.” She rolled her hips against his and spread her legs again so that he drove deeper into her. “I need it hard please. I want it from behind.”

“Later.” Jon voiced between clenched teeth, but his hips pulled back just a tiny bit more and his cock slid back into her with even more intensity.

Daenerys didn’t listen, and her hands gripped his ass to add her own force to his thrusts. “I want it hard my King. I can take it. You know I can take your big cock.”

“Fuck Dany.” Jon exclaimed in desire. His cock gave a pulse and he knew that her words would drive him over the edge if he wasn’t careful. It was good being back inside her, too good, and Jon didn’t want it end. But the spectacle was almost too much for him. His beautiful Valyrian wife, wanton and needy. _Only for me. She’s mine, all mine._

Jon couldn’t take her teasing any longer and he rose on his hands and then grabbed her thighs, spreading them and then pushing them back until they nearly touched the bed. It opened her up to him and each thrust of his drove him to the root. He felt the back of her cunt caress the head of his cock. His façade slipped. “Fine, you want it hard my naughty wife. Don’t complain when your cunt aches. I’m going to fuck you tonight until my balls are empty. Even if you beg me to stop.”

Daenerys bit her lip as she stared at him. “Do it. I can take it, I swear.”

“Rub your clit. I won’t last long, and I want you to cum before I fill you.” Jon ordered. Daenerys obeyed, and her dainty fingers rubbed in time to his thrust.

“Thank you, baby.” The hand that wasn’t on her clit played with her breast, pinching the nipple.

True to his word Jon drove into with a fury. Each thrust bottomed out entirely and he felt the heat pool in his sack. “Are you close? Are you going to cum for your king?” He asked.

“I’m so close baby. I want to wait for you.” Her face was wincing with pleasure as she tried to balance on the edge.

Jon gave a hard thrust and then ground his hips into at the bottom of the stroke. “Cum for me like I told you. Cum for me. Now cum for me.”

Daenerys toes clenched at his order and her body shook as another, even more powerful orgasm rolled through her. Her cunt clenched on his length like a vice.

“Look at me baby. Where do you want my cum?”

Her eyes were wild, and Daenerys was drunk with passion. “In me please. I want to feel you leak out.”

Jon grunted and then came hard. He slid his entire length into her, firing off streaks of his seed at the back of her walls. Daenerys rubbed his back as he half collapsed, catching himself on his elbows before he could crush her. He moved to get off her, but her legs constricted around him.

“Wait. I still want to feel you in me.” Daenerys kissed his cheeks and her hands rubbed across his back.

“You’re going to be sore.” Jon warned. Each time they reunited after their time apart, they were always a bit too eager and Daenerys’ cunt was tender after. It limited what they could do as a result.

“I know but I can take it.” His wife smiled.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

**Daenerys**

Daenerys was the most content she had been in an entire month. Being in her husband's arms was more comforting than she would ever admit to anyone but him. She snuggled into his chest, pressing her face close so she could listen to his heartbeat. It still amazed her to this day that he could survive such a wound. It was proof of his strength.

Jon’s arms were wrapped around her, his fingers traced her spine while the other hand kneaded her buttocks. He was still hard, she could feel him against her stomach, slick with his seed and her juices. She wanted him again but already there was an ache in her core. It was pleasant still, but she knew taking his cock inside of her again so soon was too much to ask. “I missed you.” She mumbled. Her words lacked the authoritative tone that was necessary ever since she assumed the role of monarch. With Jon, unlike anyone else, she could simply be Dany and not Queen Daenerys.

She didn’t have to look at his face to see his smile. “Did you? I couldn’t tell.” He joked.

She pinched his core again, it was a struggle to find lose skin around his abdominal area, but she found purchase. Jon winced from her attack and made an attempt to distance herself from her. She followed, abandoning her pinching to tickle him instead. “I’ll teach you not to be snarky.” Daenerys exclaimed as her fingers danced around his sides.

Jon laughed, squirming to get away from her. Soon she ended up straddling his hips and her core pressed against his length. Her attempt to get him to beg for mercy was soon forgotten and she grinded her core against him. Both of their breaths hitched at the sensation. Jon’s hands were suddenly on her hips aiding in her motions.

She shifted and then gasped as the head of his cock brushed split her lips to press against her clit. “Jon.” She whined. The sensations were a mix of pleasure and pain. Sensitive still she was, but the soft skin of his hard length made her ache in need.

Jon set the pace, his large hands held her in place, so she could find the perfect rhythm. She was soaked still a mix of her juices and her husband’s seed. The combination flowed out of her, coating Jon’s cock, his hips and the curls at his navel. She bit her lip, staring down and meeting her husband’s heated gaze. “I want you inside of me again.” She told him.

Jon’s grip on her tightened and he bucked up against her in response to her words. She winced at the sudden sensation. “You’re going to be too sore.” He warned but even as he voiced his concerns his hands were pulling her downwards, so the intensity of their contact increased. It prevented her from raising up and angling him into her.

Her husband was always so considerate and concerned for her pleasure. He surpassed any of her previous lovers and each time he took her to bed, he made sure to bring her to the zenith. Yet after three years of marriage, to a kind, wonderful and passionate man, Daenerys wanted Jon to use her. _Tell me what to do Jon. Flip me over and take me._ A month away from her husband had made Daenerys’ fantasies even more vivid. Most revolved around her husband dropping his caring persona and letting out the savage warrior that he had been when she first met him.

Jon’s voice was terse. “Grab the oil. We need it, so it doesn’t hurt.” She was sopping wet, so slick that the downy hairs above her cunt were dripping. There was wisdom in his words, the additional lubrication would rid her of most of the pain, but there was a part of her that wanted the pain along with the pleasure. Jon slapped her ass at her hesitation and she rushed to follow his order.

They kept an assortment of oils in a drawer near their bed, so Daenerys was only gone for a few seconds before she returned with the bottle in her hand. She opened the cap on the bottle and poured a liberal amount on her hands and then directly onto Jon’s cock. Her hands spread the oil along her husband’s length. She encircled his cock, one hand focused at the crown and the other at his base, both worked in corkscrews and a grin appeared on her face when her husband released a gasp.

“You like that?” She asked. A small jolt always went through her when she held him like this. The feel of his thick length and her hand and the looks of awe Jon sent her way were worth more than her weight in gold.

Jon nodded, made wordless as his teeth bit his bottom lip. He was arching up into her hands and she slid her palms up and down to aid his motions. Part of her wanted to finish him like this but she wanted him inside of her now. Her hands abandoned his length, using the excess lubricant to rub around her core.

Silently she thanked the Lyseni for the gifts. It was a bribe in truth and a very good one at that, both her and Jon had been delighted to find that this oil gave off a pleasant heat when it came in contact with skin. She dropped to her hands and knees and arched her back. Looking over her shoulder at her husband, who stared at her with expression that was akin to amazement, she said “I want you to take me like this. Take your wife like a wolf bitch.”

Jon rose quickly and moved into position behind her. His hands caressed her ass, dipping between her thighs to brush against her petals. “You’re soaked.” Jon stated. His voice was raspier, hungrier. She felt the tip of his cock split her lips and she pushed backwards to take half of him in a single stroke.

She gasped, and Jon grunted from her impatience. Gloriously her husband didn’t make to pull out or take her slow but instead he pressed against the arch in her back and slid till his sack pressed against her clit. “Fuck me baby.” She goaded him. Jon responded with a harsh thrust that brought stars to her eyes.

Taking him like this was the surest way to get the roughness that she craved. Her husband’s cock was long and thick, in this position his proportions were exaggerated, and it felt as if her tunnel was stretched to the limit each time he stroked. Jon set a punishing pace and his sack slapped against her clit with each bottoming out thrust. Rough hands gripped her hips, sometimes holding her in place so all she could do was accept this glorious punishment or they guided her motions, so she could work with him.

Invariably she was coming to her end. Jon was gripping her ass cheeks now, spreading them so her rosebud was exposed. The tip of his thumb traced the crinkled skin and the oil and juices from her center made her hole slick enough that his thumb slipped into the first knuckle. Daenerys bit her lip and pressed her face into the mattress. Their room filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“Are you close?” Jon asked. The hand that didn’t have a thumb anchored in her ass delivered a rough slap to her ass cheek.

Daenerys nodded as much as she could with her face pressed into the bed and then realizing that Jon couldn’t hear her, she lifted up an inch and voiced “I’m so close. Take me hard please.”

Jon grunted in response to her words. His pace quickened. “Play with your clit while I fuck you.” Daenerys did as her husband bid, delighted as his sack slapped against her fingers. It didn’t take long for her to cum and this time was even stronger than the previous ones. Her cunt clenched on his cock like a vice with every pulse of her core. The pleasure was intense nearly too much and her body went boneless as a result. Jon followed her collapsing form, never slowing his thrusts.

“Cum in me please.” She begged. There was the slightest bit of pain now, born from how sensitive she was. She slid one knee up, nearly to her torso, so Jon was straddling one leg as he pumped into her cunt. His hand abandoned her ass to place a possessive grip on her swinging breast. “Please my King.”

Her words were Jon’s undoing and he came inside of her with a snarl. She could almost feel his seed hit her walls, each shot was proceeded by the swell of his cock. _Let it take root._ She wished, even though she knew that it was an impossibility.

Jon pulled her back to his chest and held her as they recovered. “I love you.” They both whispered before sleep enthralled them for a few hours.

Daenerys woke to Jon kissing her spine. “Mmm… I could get used to this.” Daenerys mumbled.

“Are you not already?” Jon asked, amused.

“Perhaps, I’ve forgotten. A month is an awful long time to be apart.” She whispered. Jon rolled her onto her back. A smile was on his lips as he leaned above her. She knew that he had shaved for her before his departure from the North. While the Freefolk lent more respect to a man with a full beard, Daenerys preferred Jon clean shaven. His jawline was to perfect to be hidden and a clean-shaven face felt marvelous between her thighs.

Jon’s dark grey grew hungry from her challenge. He looked as much of an animal as his direwolf. “Then I must remind my wife of the pleasure that I can bring.”

Daenerys tried protesting when he kissed down her body, but Jon simply ignored her words. Soon his hands were spreading her thighs and his head occupied the newly made space. Jon’s lips and tongue found her clit with the gentlest pressure. She gasped, even after years of being on the receiving end of her husband’s affections, she was still amazed at his skill. Eventually Jon worked a finger into her while he ate her.

His tongue and the pad of his finger worked in unison to bring her to climax. It was gentler than the last, still her toes clenched, and her hips bucked. He stayed with her until the crest of the waves were gentle vibrations.

“Remember now?” Jon asked. His face was covered with her essence, she pulled him down and met his lips with her own.

“I do. Thank you.” Daenerys replied.

Eventually, they left their bed and made it to their connected bathing chambers. The Valyrians were masterful in their construction of Dragonstone and the castle’s seat on a dormant volcano had the effect of heating the castle’s running water.

In the center of the room was their bathtub. It was made obsidian like the rest of the castle, though this piece was multicolored and in the shape of a blossoming flower rather than the dragons and gargoyles of the outer castle. The tub was massive, easily able to seat eight or more people yet in here with her husband, Daenerys felt there wasn’t a more intimate setting.

Jon took to washing her with greater care than her hand maidens. Her husband rubbed the soft sponge against her skin and his fingers combed through her hair, carefully undoing her braids before working in the lather into her scalp. She relaxed into his chest as his fingers massaged her head. When he was done cleaning her, she settled down into his lap. His arms wrapped around her and they settled on the stone bench in the tub.

The Valyrians were masterful with their spells and the tub had some sort of enchantment that kept the water within heated for hours. Often, they would rest in the pool for hours, until their skin pruned, content with each other’s company. “Jon?” Daenerys asked, her voice barely audible.

“Hmm?” Jon responded. His hands were cupping her breasts now, absentmindedly juggling their weight.

“What do you think will happen after we are gone?” It was a thought that she had been considering for a while now. Of their own volition her fingers traced the scar across her abdomen, Jon’s hands met hers.

“Daenerys- “Jon started but she interrupted before he could continue his reassurances.

“I’m serious. What happens after we pass? Who controls Drogon, Rhaegal, Urrax…Viserion?” The thought of her stolen child brought a surge of anger. _One of my children stolen and the chance of others taken. Our child…_

She flinched away from Jon’s embrace, knowing that if he pulled her into his arms then her fears would abate, and their argument would play out another time, rather than now as it should. “Did Tyrion put you up to this?” She could hear the frustration in Jon’s voice and his anger.

“Tyrion and I did talk while you were away.” She admitted. “However, I have been thinking about our lack of heirs for a while. We are monarchs Jon, continuing our line should be among our chief concerns.” 

Jon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “We’ve talked about this Dany, give it time and your womb might quicken again. If not, then Rickon is our heir.”

“Your brother is a Stark. He can’t ride any of our dragons and without us they’re likely to be as great of terrors as the monsters Euron awakened. Besides that, the Kingdom bowed to dragons not wolves, Rickon can rule the North, little else the rest of the continent. We need children with dragon’s blood.”

Jon’s voice was tender and this time when he reached for her, she didn’t pull away. “And we might.” His hands traced her scar again as he stared into her eyes. “We aren’t sure if this means that you can’t have children.”

“We have been trying for three years, Jon. There’s been no lack of effort on our part and yet nothing has happened. I want to wait … I really do but Tyrion brought up a great point; the pretender likely isn’t waiting. What if something happens to one of us? What if I were gone and he returned? Drogon and Rhaegal would be loathe to fight their brother and I doubt Urrax could fight three dragons on his own.”

Jon was silent for a time. The disapproval was clear on his face, but she could see him relenting as he mulled over her words. Her husband sometimes still exhibited an endearing naivety but his time as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch had molded him into a pragmatic ruler as well. “Are you suggesting we find a surrogate?” His voice was subdued, and he appeared guarded, as if she was likely to succumb to anger at her own suggestion.

She wrinkled her nose. “A surrogate seems too informal. The woman we choose will be the mother to the future of our family. I don’t want a glorified broodmare.  And I don’t want to separate a mother from her child, she will be just as involved in her child’s upbringing as we will.”

The tension leaving Jon’s body was visible. “You’ve put some thought into this.” He admitted.

Daenerys settled near husband and rested her feet into his lap. Jon’s hands quickly began massaging them. “Aye, Tyrion and I talked about this for some time. It presents a unique opportunity to further bind the kingdoms to us.”

“How so?” Jon asked. His thumbs rubbed the pads of her soles with the right amount of force to make her quiver.

“Are you trying to distract me?” She asked, amused.

Jon shook his head. “No if I were then I’d do this.” And he lifted her foot out of the water to pull her toes into his mouth.

Daenerys ignored the pleasurable sensation and pulled her feet away. “Jon, this is serious.” His hands didn’t release her feet, but he settled again. “There are several unmarried or widowed highborn women who could be candidates. Though Tyrion thinks we should focus on ladies from the most prominent houses. Margaery Tyrell is thrice wedded and never bedded but her mother delivered four healthy children.”

Jon recalled Sansa’s stories about her time in King’s Landing. Much of it was unpleasant and a part of Jon wished Tyrion’s family hadn’t been wiped about before Urrax’s hatching. If anyone deserved to feel Urrax’s kiss of death, then it was the Mad Queen and her monstrous first born. Sansa described the Tyrell heiress as the only one who took the time to lend her some form of compassion. “Sansa spoke fondly of her.”

Daenerys smiled. “I know. Sansa recommended her.”

“You’ve been speaking to my sister about this?” Jon asked, incredulous.

“ _Your cousin_ wants to be an aunt, though I suspect not for the same reasons that I enjoy being one.” She pressed her toe against his manhood to emphasize her point. “Margaery Tyrell is just one on the list of potentials.”

“There is a list now?”

“Of course. Arianne Martell- “

“She was motioning to secure a betrothal with the Blackfyre when you landed on Westeros. Why should we reward her with a consideration?”

“Arianne is the ruling Princess of Dorne, the last three regimes have done much to antagonize Dorne and I wish to maintain peaceful relations with our southernmost kingdom. Even if we don’t choose Arianne, a conversation with Dorne is long overdue as is with most of the Kingdom.”

Jon acquiesced. “Who else is on your list?”

“Admittedly, the list is somewhat small. Dorne and Highgarden are the best options in the Seven Kingdoms so far, though I am thinking a Lyseni Noblewoman would make sense as well.” Lys had traditionally been a place where Targaryen kings and princes looked for a wife when they lacked a sister, cousin or Velayron. Even the small folk in Lys shared her silver hair, purple and sometimes pale blue eyes.

“Why Lys? I thought our search was restricted to the Seven Kingdoms? Lys is definitely not part of our Kingdom.”

“Not yet at least. But controlling our dragons after we are gone is perhaps more important than a political alliance. There is no guarantee Margaery or Arianne can produce a child who will be able to ride our dragons. The Lyseni have a lot of Valyrian blood which might be a huge factor.”

Jon frowned. Only her husband would be displeased at his wife suggesting he take other women. “So, Margaery, Arianne and some Lyseni woman?”

Her heart thudded and briefly she wondered if Jon would suggest a name of his own. Jealousy reared in her chest when she thought of her husband laying with other women but there was a thrill of desire as well. However, there was a reason that she omitted a specific name from her list, the only woman that she truly worried was capable of stealing her husband away. _She’s not truly a noble._ She reasoned. _Just a woman that looks and talks like a princess._

“Daenerys, what happens if you do become pregnant? What will we do if Arianne or Margaery has a child by that time as well?”

Relief flowed through her at Jon’s inquiry. “We will cross that bridge when it comes. Until then it is useless to consider what might never come to pass.”

Jon sighed. “You know I would be more than satisfied to spend the rest of my life with only you? You will always be my favorite.”

A blushed touched her cheeks and she sank lower into the water. “Prove it to me.”  

**Before Resurrection**

His howl pierced the night’s sky and his smaller cousins added to the crescendo. The smell of man-fear was pervasive and tantalizing. It stirred his anger into a fever pitch, the reason to his anger was becoming harder and harder to remember with each passing moon. _Metal teeth, brother betrayers, wild sister, cold, and now hate._

The white direwolf with eyes like blood snapped at one of his smaller cousins who drew too far ahead. The little wolf fell back obediently into the pack behind the white wolf. The group drew to a stop near the crest of a hill. His pack stayed behind in the grove of the trees while the white direwolf crested the knoll. A full moon illuminated the night and a light snowfall fell, adding to the already covered ground. His keen eyes drank in the light and the world before him was as clear as a summer’s day.

Below, he could see a column of men marching through the snow. Two legs sank into the snow and their march was slow and clumsy. Their horses could sense the danger and they bayed their warnings. Their march came to a stop sporadically as they shouted orders up and down the line. Garbled words reached his ears, some swallowed by the wind and the others, words that he had forgotten. There was a hiss of steel as men drew their metal teeth. ‘ _Swords’_ he reminded himself. Torch wielders moved to the flanks of the column, extending their fires to peer into the night.

The white wolf faintly recalled his man vision. Colors were more vivid during the day, yet the night robbed their eyes of detail and scope. Fire only lit a few paces in front of the men, yet it robbed them of so much more. Prone on the crest of the hill, his white fur mixing with the snow, he was Ghost.

He extended his mind, taking purchase of his pack. Fifty souls greeted him. The time before the hunt made them bloodthirsty, yet some retained their fear of men. To those too eager, he demanded caution and silence. To those who feared, he lent courage and demanded their discipline. He was alpha. His distant brother, to the far north, whispered ‘ _King’._

The white wolf bid his pack to position themselves, no sound was exchanged as they shifted to follow his order. Time ticked by and yet the wolves made no motion to move from their perches. The men below grew restless, glancing around and shouting at each other to be still or silent.

These men were warriors, northerners hardened by their harsh environment and years of killing each other. They wore thick hides and metal skin, hard to bite through. Alert they were too dangerous for his pack, an injury, even a small one, could be a death sentence. The white wolf would give these men no satisfaction in bringing one of his own down. So, he waited. Alertness bled into uncertainty, and uncertainty degraded into confusion. Confusion was the bane of men. Weak limbed and equipped with dull senses, they relied on each other, yet the lack of a strong alpha muddied that bond.  

Eventually, the column started moving again. This time though, there was a haste to their pace and the uniform pace of their march was lost. The promise of safety behind high walls and torches made these men weak and far too eager. Stragglers soon appeared at the back of the column. Their smell marked them as the weak, the sick, and the injured. _Easy prey._ At the front, the outriders began to outpace the rest of the column. They pushed their horses to slug through the snow.

The white wolf waited for the men to separate further. Then, he gave the order. He took point and led a group of his smaller cousins to attack the front, while the rest of his pack made for the easy prey. There were no howls or snarls to signal their approach. They moved swiftly through the deep snow, closing the distance before the men could realize the wolves were upon them.

The white wolf was the first to attack. As big as the warhorses, he went straight for the throat of a large destrier, pulling down both horse and rider in a single, violent motion. Blood spilled on the fresh snow as the wolf tore the horse’s throat out. Its rider screamed in agony as the weight of his dead horse and the direwolf pinned him to the ground. The white wolf silenced the man’s screams with a bite that crushed his skull.

They targeted the mounted riders first. The white wolf’s cousins were only about half his size, but they worked with brutal efficiency. Bites and nips at the horse’s legs and joints either disabled them or sent them into a panic, throwing their riders from the saddle. Three men fell in the first few moments of the attack and they were quickly swarmed by the wolves before they could recover.

Screams and cries soon became a cacophony. A mounted man tried to rally his men, drawing his sword and urging his horse to race into the fray. An attempt to ride down one of the smaller-cousins. The white wolf closed the thirty-foot distance between him and the rider in three long strides. Before the rider could fully turn his head, the white wolf slammed into him, snatching the rider from his saddle.

The force of the blow stunned the man into submission and no screams left his lips before the direwolf’s teeth tore his throat out. For the men it was chaos after that, for the wolves it was an easy hunt. The men tried to rally and form groups to combat the onslaught but under the direction of the white wolf the wolves were relentless, cutting men down before they could coalesce into a defensive formation. As their numbers dwindled, the men abandoned the fight and fled in all directions. The wolves hunted the men down tearing apart their formations before they tore apart their bodies.

Thirty men soon laid dead in the snow, their bodies scattered amongst the trees and the field of white. The white wolf was not yet done with them. He ordered his pack to drag the men into the center field. They didn’t understand the purpose and none of them could infer the meaning behind the formation he ordered the bodies to be arranged in. But there was still a trace of the man trapped in the white wolf and he wanted his enemies to know that he was still alive. Death had only made him stronger.

Brutalized bodies formed the four letters of his message and interspersed between them were the bloody banners depicting a flayed man on a black field. ‘ _Arya’_ the bodies read. His wolves howled their victory.

_I will have my sister._

  
**Jon**

 “Jon, wake up.” A voice whispered. A kiss to the scar on his throat caused him to stir. His scars were burning, as if ice had been held under the skin for far too long. He groaned in pain and confusion. “Ssh.. it’s me my love. Come back to me, you’re safe now.” The voice was smooth and pleasant in a way that only a woman’s voice could be.

Jon’s eyes cracked open and, in the moment that his vision needed to adjust to the dim light cast by the fire, the woman’s eyes appeared blue and her hair the color of honey. He blinked, and the effect was gone, lilac eyes and silver blonde hair were what remained. “Dany.” He croaked.

“It’s me, Jon.” His wife whispered. He could see the worry in her eyes. “Did you have your dream again?”

He nodded, the burning of his scars abated as Dany’s hands traveled across his chest, the heat of her fingers drove the cold away. “Did I wake you again?”

His wife’s smile was equal parts disarming and charming. “It’s okay, it was soon time to wake up anyway. The small council has missed its King dearly.” She kissed the scar over his heart and the discomfort that was once so fierce in his body abandoned him entirely.

Daenerys noticed the small gasps that escaped his lips and continued on to his other scars. The scar just under his rib was the most sensitive and Daenerys spent the most time there, tracing the raised skin with her tongue. Jon squirmed under her but her hands at his hips stilled him. He could feel her nipples brush against his skin as she descended down his body.

They were still nude from the night before, covered under their thick blankets that moved to expose more skin as Daenerys traced across his abdominals. She nuzzled her nose in the hair above his navel and smiled mischievously at him. “You know Jon, you have such a nice body it is a shame that this hair conceals some of it from my eyes. I could have Irri shave some of this for you.”

Jon frowned and met his wife’s pretty lilac eyes. “You have never complained about it before. Besides, I’m a man we’re supposed to have hair in those places.” In truth he was never as hairy as Robb or Theon, his chest was nearly bare, and his body hair only grew thicker closer to his navel.

“There’s nothing wrong with this hair but think of how much easier I could navigate with a bit less of it.” She kissed around the junction of his thighs, close to his rapidly hardening manhood. “A little less hair around here would be prettier as well, I would think.”

The thought of anything sharp around his nether region was very discomforting and it must have showed on his face as Daenerys’s laugh pierced the air.

“Are you scared, _Jon Snow?_ My Prince who was promised, Dragon rider of the first Ice Dragon, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men? Scared of a close shave? You know Irri does wonderful work on me and you enjoy the fruits of her labor.” Daenerys teased. There was a twinkle in her eyes that caused his heart to quicken.

“I am not scared.” Jon responded. He couldn’t help but notice that he sounded like a boy.

“Oh really?” Daenerys asked. Her hand circled around his turgid length and she stroked him gently. “So, you would do it then? I can have Irri take care of you after our meeting.”

Her thumb brushed over his slit and the motion was distracting enough that Jon was about ready to agree to any of her demands. “Dany.” He whined. The fog of sleep had yet to leave him entirely and paired with his growing arousal his brain felt incapable of forming a more intelligent response to his wife’s inquiry.

“I think we both would benefit. I could do more of this for instance.” She dipped her head between his thighs and kissed along his sack. Jon gasped, and his legs spread unconsciously to grant her greater access. “I could do more than kiss these. Would my nephew want me to take his balls into my mouth?”

Jon nodded eagerly and then gasped again as she lifted his sack in her hand to lick the underside with a wide swipe of her tongue. Her tongue traced around his sack and then up his shaft before she took the tip of him into her mouth.

He reached for her, wanting to pull her up so he could kiss her, but Daenerys batted his hands away before he could reach her. “No nephew, let your aunt take care of you.” His hands obeyed his wife’s command and fisted in their sheets.

Daenerys flashed him a wicked smile before her mouth enveloped him once again. She took half of him in a single plunge and then drew back to the tip of his length before she spit. A glob of saliva trailed down his length, only to be caught by her hand which spread it out coating in slickness. Her other hand held his hip down as she worked him.

Her hand moved in a lazy circular motion at the base of his length while her tongue and lips teased his head. She trailed kisses down his and then licked up his length with a long smooth swipe of her tongue that ended when she pulled his head back between her lips.

Daenerys’s hands limited the thrust of his hips and his hands bunched their sheets uselessly. He wanted to touch or taste her or better yet both. Her mouth felt excellent and the lewd sounds of her slurps and her slick hand gliding over him only added to his pleasure, but Jon wanted her entirely. “C’mere Dany.” He whispered.

She shook her head even as her tongue circled around the underside of his shaft. “I told you that I was going to take care of my nephew. I need to chase his nightmares away so all he dreams of is his naughty aunt.”

Jon’s hips bucked in response and Daenerys grazed the helm of his cock with her teeth. It was light enough to not hurt but enough to still him. Her left hand abandoned his hip to fondle his sack. His wife descended quickly and took more than half of his cock in a single plunge, so deep that he felt his head graze the entrance of her throat before she pulled away.

He couldn’t help but beg. “Let me taste you please. I want to eat you while you do this.”

“While I do what Jon? What is your auntie doing?” Daenerys asked with a grin.

“She’s sucking my cock.” Jon growled. He was losing patience and the urge to pull Daenerys up, so she sat on his face was growing stronger by the moment.

“And just what are you asking your auntie to do?” As she spoke her lips pressed along his shaft with wet open mouth kisses.

“I want her to sit on my face, so I can taste her cunt. I want to be able smell you on my lips all day.” Jon admitted. It was all true. The best thing about tasting his wife was how the smell of her lingered on his lips and fingers for hours afterward. He was addicted to it and the month he had spent completely without Daenerys was tantamount to torture.

Dany obliged his request and she turned quickly straddling his head while her own pulled his shaft back into her mouth. Her cunt was centered over his mouth and he took a moment to inhale the scent of her arousal. Her full lips were spread, and she was nearly dripping. Jon nuzzled his nose between her lips, spreading her juices on his face before his tongue swiped at her clit.

It soon became a game of who could make the other lose control first. Daenerys took him deep into her mouth and throat while Jon sucked her clit between his lips while he slid a finger into her. Her hips rocked into his face and her head bobbed down causing Jon to gasp into her cunt while he thrusted gently into her mouth.

Daenerys pulled off his cock and her hips undulated on his face, pressing her ass against his forehead as he eagerly sucked at her core. Her hands gripped his hips while she rode his face. Jon stroked her legs, her back and kneaded her ass cheeks while he worked to sate his hunger.

He craned his neck to follow her as she pulled away from his face. Before he could protest, Daenerys gripped his cock and sheathed it in her to the root. Her hands gripped his shins and he watched as her ass cheeks flexed as she pumped up and down onto his cock.

“Do you like the view?” Daenerys asked over her shoulder. Heat from the fire and their sex coated their bodies in a sheen of sweat. Jon watched a bead of moisture race down his wife’s spine.

“By the gods your ass…” He trailed off watching as her cheeks smacked against his hips. Daenerys fell forward onto her arms and her cheeks spread slightly so he glimpsed a peek of her rosebud. Jon’s hand gripped her hips and together they guided her ride on his cock. Periodically Daenerys clenched, and her cunt became a slick vice that threatened to milk Jon of his seed.

Daenerys hissed as his hands slapped her ass or gripped her cheeks roughly. Their pace quickened and the slap of her buttocks meeting his hips became more frequent. She pounded her cunt to take him down to the root and her hips rolled. He was so deep that he could feel the tip of his cock brush against the back of her cunt. His wife whined at the sensation and lifted her hips slightly.

“Are you close, my King? Are you going to fill my cunt with your seed?” She asked huskily. Her hair was plastered against her back and she threw it over one shoulder, never stopping the motion of her hips.

“Cum for me first. I want to feel you.” Jon growled out. He gripped her hips and helped her lift and then dragged her back downwards.

A challenge grew in Daenerys’s eyes, eerily similar to the look that was present in their dragon’s eyes when they went on a hunt. “Do you think you can last? Maybe I want you to cum in me and have your tongue clean me up, so I don’t leak in our meeting.”

In response, Jon pulled his wife backwards so that her back rested against his chest. He gripped her breast in one hand while his hand forced between her thighs and found the button above her core. Daenerys gasped when his fingers dipped below to spread her wetness over her clit. Her thighs fell open and her cunt clenched around him.

“Oh, you didn’t like that? Are you going to make-“ Her words were cut off as he slapped her clit and pinched her nipple.

In this position he didn’t have much leverage to thrust, so he made do with his fingers and his teeth at her neck. He rolled her clit between his fingers and periodically he swatted it, delighting at the squelch of juices that followed. “Cum for me baby. I want my naughty auntie to cum for me.”

Moments later, Daenerys followed his command. Her back arched and her cunt fluttered around him, but the greatest sense of accomplishment came when he felt the rush of juices spray out from her coating his sack, his thighs and their sheets. Daenerys cried out, loud enough that he had no doubt their Kingsguard could hear them. He continued playing with her clit, gradually decreasing the pressure until his fingers were ghosting over the button, prolonging her orgasm.

When she was done she settled against his chest limply. _A sweet victory._ He couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his face.

Daenerys’s voice, laced with satisfaction graced the air. “You’re one crafty bastard, Jon Snow.” They shared a chuckle. His hands kneaded her breasts and he resisted the urge to thrust into her.

She lifted off him and rolled onto her back. Her legs spread wide and she flashed him a wanton look. “Fuck me, my King.”

Jon hitched at her display and he hovered over. He kissed her lips and slid into her slowly, burying himself inside until he was to the root. Daenerys’s thighs squeezed around his hips and her hands caressed his back as he stroked into her. His thrusts were slow and languid, drawing out his pleasure but not endangering him of falling over the edge of it too soon.

“I love you, my Queen.” He told her, staring into her eyes as he did so. Her plump lips met his again in answer.

“I love you too, my King. Fill me, I want your seed inside of me.” Daenerys whined. Passion made her voice a pitch higher, increasing the cuteness. Her hair was a silver halo under her head.

Jon gasped into her neck and the pace of his thrusts increased. Her channel fluttered around him, made tighter from her orgasm, enough so that even with her wetness he had to force his way inside of her with each thrust. “You are mine. My Queen, my wife, my love. I don’t care if you bear me a hundred children or bear me none at all. You will always be the first in my heart, the one I lust for most, the one I want to fill with my seed the most often. Do you understand.”

The love was in her eyes and she cried out as he punctuated each of his words with a thrust of his hips. Her legs fell open, as wide as possible and her hips tilted upward letting him fall even deeper into her. Her hands reached out to his shoulders, but Jon caught her wrist and dragged both above her head. He held both hands with a single one of his own while the other fisted in the sheets near her hip to stabilize him.

He needed her to understand the level of his devotion. “Arianne Martell, Margaery Tyrell, some noblewoman from Lys, I don’t care. All I ever wanted is you. You are my family, more than anyone else. If it wasn’t for our drag-“ His orgasm took him by surprise and his grip on Daenerys’s wrists faltered as he shuddered. Her hands reached out to him, stroking his back and pulling him down until his chest pressed against her own.

The feeling running through him was so intense that his vision briefly went blank. When he recovered Daenerys was kissing the tears running down his cheeks. “You will always be mine as well.”  She whispered into his throat.

Jon rolled to his side, dragging Dany with him. She protested weakly when he pulled the covers back over them. “The small council can wait.” He said before snuggling with his wife.

When they finally woke the dim light of the sun had already crested the horizon. The sky was still a pale grey, reminiscent of the skies above Winterfell in the the days of his youth. Snow still fell, much lighter than it did during his flight to Dragonstone. The fire in their brazier crackled, threatening to go out soon if more wood wasn’t added.

Daenerys rested against his chest and her finger traced idly around his nipple. “How mad do you think Tyrion would be if we stayed in bed all day?” She asked.

“And here I thought you were the responsible one?” Jon japed. He ran his hands down her sides taking pleasure in the feel of her smooth skin and delicate curves.

“Oh, I am but I’m the naughty one as well.“ Daenerys responded with a pinch. Jon winced good naturedly and batted her hands away.

He grabbed her and rolled both of them out of bed. Daenerys clutched against his chest and wrapped her legs around his waist in response to the sudden cold. “Now, you’re the cold one.” Jon joked but he didn’t release her until he could add another log to the fire.

It took them even longer to dress than normal, mostly because every time Jon got close to pulling on an article of clothing, Daenerys would drag it off him before he could make any more progress. Eventually, Jon had to throw his wife back down on the bed and make her cum with his tongue before she was satisfied.

They emerged from their room, flushed with wide grins and empty stomachs. Their Kingsguard Edric Dayne was waiting outside of their door, a knowing grin on his face.

“Good day to you, Milk Brother.” Edric said to Jon.

“A good day indeed.” Indeed, Jon laughed and then winced when Daenerys elbowed his ribs. His wife had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Has the council been waiting long?” Daenerys asked as they made their way up the stairs of the Stone Drum. Despite his wife slipping back into her ruling persona, they still walked hand in hand alongside their Kingsguard. Edric Dayne was one of the youngest ever to wear a white cloak at eighteen years old, just a year older than Jon had been when he was elected to the position of Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, but Jon had no doubts in Edric’s ability. The legendary sword Dawn that was strapped across Edric’s back lent further credence to his abilities. Jon had seen Edric spill blood and knew that there were few men living who could match the young Knight in skill.

“Not too long, Your Grace. The Lord Hand thought that your reunion would take much longer than normal considering the King’s lengthy absence. They just gathered twenty minutes ago and are waiting for both of you to break their fast.” Edric responded with a polite smile. Daenerys laughed and Jon blushed.

“Tyrion is too smart by half.” Daenerys whispered. Jon couldn’t help but agree.  

They always held their small council meetings in the Chamber of the Painted Table. It was a large room, located at the top of the Stone Drum Tower, the main keep of their family’s ancestral fortress. In the center of the room lay the room’s namesake, Aegon’s painted table. The table was large, carved in the form of a detailed map of Westeros. More than fifty feet long and roughly twenty-five feet wide at its widest point and four feet at its thinnest, the table had been commissioned by the Conqueror for his and his sister-wives’s eventual conquest of Westeros. More than three hundred years ago that table may have been the most accurate map of the continent, most likely Aegon had a Maester fly with himself and his sisters on the back of their dragons to make detailed notes for the eventual map. Now though, the table was wildly inaccurate. From Moat Cailin to The Twins, much of the Neck was submerged underwater. The landmasses that had remained formed a patchwork of mostly uninhabited islands.

Seated to the head of the Painted Table, near the raised dais were the members of their small council. It was perhaps one of the most unconventional councils since King Jaehaerys I formalized the concept. _Bastards, dwarves, exiles and oath breakers._ They had all once joked. A fitting description.

“You’re late.” Tyrion said. His tone was sharp, but his mismatched eyes betrayed him.

“My wife and I had to be reacquainted.” Jon returned with a straight face. Snickering was his answer. Daenerys brushed a finger against his palm before she took a seat next to Tyrion. Jon sat across from her nearest to Samwell while their Master of Ships Aurane Velayron, formally Aurane Waters, Grand Maester Marwyn, Edric and Lysondro Maar filled in the rest of the seats.

Both Samwell and Marwyn filled the position of Grand Maester. Marwyn was too concerned with the rise of mystical and unexplainable magical occurrences in the world to handle the more practical responsibilities that came with the position, hence Samwell’s role but the eccentric Maester had been invaluable in helping Daenerys learn to control her dragons.

“I think the entire castle can attest to that.” Aurane japed. Even Dany joined in their laughter. Aurane was one of the greatest anomalies of their council, next to their spymaster Lysono Maar. The Bastard of Driftmark had formally been the Grand Admiral of the Mad Queen’s navy before he defected to carve out his own kingdom in the Stepstones. Daenerys’s arrival in Westeros and Tyrion’s machinations had led him to bend the knee. Jon hadn’t liked the man at first. With silver hair and grey-green eyes, the thin man was too handsome to not notice and had already been one of the main suitors for Daenerys’s hand in her camp when Jon had journeyed south.

Lysono Maar by looks alone was an even greater worry. If any man could be described as pretty, then it would be their spymaster. The Lyseni had all the features that attested to his Valyrian heritage, silver-blonde hair and purple eyes with lips full enough that Jon mistook him for a woman on first sight. However, both men had eventually proven their loyalty when they had needed it the most and they were among the few that Jon trusted.

“How is Lady Sansa?” Lysono asked, as if he didn’t know. Their spymaster had been one of Varys’s agents in the Golden Company that Tyrion had converted to their cause. He prided himself on being as knowledgeable as possible on the on-goings of the Seven Kingdoms and he and Sansa were in regular correspondence.

“Fending off a barrage of marriage proposals. Every lord in the North believes that marrying my sister gets them that much closer to Winterfell.” Jon replied with a frown on his face. It was disconcerting to know that with all that Sansa had gone through she still had to deal with the machinations of men who saw her as an object or a stepping stone. Although Northerners would be far more polite than Sansa’s southern suitors, Jon had ensured that Rickon used Shaggydog to protect their sister as much as possible but he couldn’t help but want to shield her himself until someone worthy came along.

“She will be fine, Jon.” Daenerys said, seemingly able to read his mind. His wife smiled reassuringly, and his thoughts cleared.

“Speaking of marriage proposals…” Tyrion raised his brow suggestively. “I’m sure our Queen has discussed the matter at hand with you?”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted his gaze between his wife and their Lord Hand. Daenerys had the grace to blush, Tyrion though looked unapologetic. “We discussed taking on another paramour or surrogate not another wife. I have one that I am very attached to, what do I need with another?”

“Well a paramour is certainly sufficient but a royal marriage, to a Lady of a paramount family or a noblewoman of Lys would be an event that would bring the Kingdoms together. For the last three years, you two have been ruling by ravens and letters, even your own marriage was seen by but a few. “Tyrion added.

Jon looked to his wife. “You had to have known this was a possibility? Arianne and Margaery are not just noblewomen but are born of the most noble families that still exist in Westeros. The Baratheons no longer exist, Tyrion is the last Lannister, the Arryns are gone…. A wife means our children will not only inherit the crown but possibly rule a paramount house as well. Never in this country’s history has our family had a chance to gain so much with so little effort.” Daenerys said with a conviction that would have stirred his heart if it were any other topic.

 “I made a vow to you, Daenerys and to you alone.” He said quietly. Wisely, the others in the room remained silent. Daenerys’s face softened.

“You aren’t breaking your vow to me, my love. If anything, you are reaffirming our vows with how much resistance you are putting up to this idea, Jon Snow. The only man on the planet who would refuse taking two wives, my honorable ice dragon.” She smiled sweetly.

“Some of us make do with no wife at all.” Aurane grinned.

“And are better off for it as well.” Tyrion japed.

When the council’s laughter died down, Daenerys spoke. “Tyrion, my husband remains unconvinced. Perhaps, you can go over the merits of the decision and how it will benefit our kingdom?” She crossed her arms and leaned back into her seat.

Tyrion’s black and green eyes gleamed and Jon wondered how much their hand had discussed the matter with Daenerys in his absence. “As you know, we are facing a litany of the most _minor_ issues:  a massive debt, food shortages that place us on the brink of a famine, two of our largest cities being reduced to ashes and rubble and meanwhile the world beyond goes mad with tales of snarks and grumpkins.”

“Your point?” Jon asked, unamused by the banter. He caught Daenerys’s frown.

“My point is that a royal marriage to a woman of the proper standing could do much to address these issues. Take the Tyrells for instance, their fields are capable of feeding more than half of the Seven Kingdoms yet they are providing less than half of that.” Tyrion added.

“Winter is here. I wouldn’t fault farmers or their lords for withholding a portion of their harvest.” Jon offered. Lord Stark had once said that the most difficult part of winter preparation was parting farmers from their crops. It was no surprise to him that the southern lords had the same issue.

“Withholding is an understatement. Most of the previous ledgers were destroyed in the Red Keep but fortunately your ancestors had the foresight to hold backup records here on Dragonstone. They kept records on taxes, grain and agricultural output on their territories and if you compare the present day to previous winters then the numbers are glaring. The Tyrells are withholding.” Tyrion slid documents from the folder he was holding and laid them on the table. It was a large stack, at the very least several decades of numerics from the winters of past years.

Jon took the time to study the documents. He read over the notes that Tyrion had made on separate sheets. Each ledger was carefully crafted, including a detailed account of the taxes and materials collected from each of the Seven Kingdoms, with Dorne being the notable exception. Tyrion had included separate sheets of paper which referenced numbers from the ledgers and included his own calculations and estimates. Jon read those over as well, grateful of his time spent in Maester Luwin’s lessons. Reluctantly, he had to admit that there was logic in Tyrion’s argument, the numbers were far less than they should have been. “To what end would you make of this? What could be their goal?”

Tyrion’s smile was made grotesque by his scarred face and lack of nose but the knowledge spilling from the brim of his eyes made the look endearing “Leverage.” He said simply.

“Leverage?” Jon the word parroted into a question. Tyrion had the bad habit of drawing out his revelations so that his audience would hang onto his every word. It made for great story telling, and Jon didn’t mind it when they all sat by the fire engaged in casual conversation but now it simply annoyed him further.

“Yes, leverage. The entirety of your regency could be described as tumultuous and foreign.” Tyrion looked between Jon and Daenerys. “For no small reasons to be sure but the high lords have seen both their power and influence significantly reduced. Normally, they would vie for positions in the court or this council, but our court is comparatively sparse, and our council has been most selective. Holding back resources for some sort of gain is both practical and non-aggressive. It is a tactic that I would use if I were in their position.”

“Then what is their end goal? We haven’t yet announced our search for a surrogate…” Daenerys coughed and Jon corrected himself. “Paramour.”

“Is it not so obvious? Margaery Tyrell remains unwedded even after years of being away from King’s Landing and unbound in the eyes of the Faith by the death of my nephews. By this time, her brother should have wedded her off to a loyal bannerman and yet the Rose of Highgarden remains unplucked.” Tyrion pantomimed plucking a rose to emphasis his point.

“It doesn’t take a genius spymaster to infer the debt that we were in either. The Tyrells likely had access to the previous regime’s ledgers and would know about the enormity of debt racked up by our Lord Hand’s late good-brother and sister. And it is no secret that we are relying on aid from Braavos to feed the North, a loan that will need to be increased if we are to meet the demands of the South as well. “ Lysono Maar chimed in while twirling his long hair between his fingers absentmindedly.

“Three years and no heirs hasn’t gone amiss either.” Aurane added gently. The man looked apologetic when Daenerys stiffened. The table was too wide for Jon to reach over to her.

“They would let the realm starve for their own interests? Why should we consider them at all?” Jon directed to his wife. Clearly, Tyrion was not the only one that she had discussed her plan with prior to mentioning the details to him.

“The realm is already starving, Jon. As much as I don’t like it, their decision does make political sense. They could plead ignorance or blame the war and winter. Despite our proof, what punishment could we doll out?” Daenerys responded, she didn’t back away from his gaze and returned it with a steely one of her own.

Jon frowned but accepted her logic. Removing the Tyrells from power would prove problematic. The Reach had already experienced its own brief civil war when Sam’s father sided with Aegon over his Tyrell overlords. Randyll’s death had stifled any opposition to the Tyrells retaining their Lord Paramount status and Willas & his brother Garlan were both valuable allies in expelling Euron’s ironborn. “It would seem Margaery is the best candidate then. Dorne feeds itself and little else, I doubt the other kingdoms offer more.”

“On the surface, it would seem just that. Additional produce from the gardens of the Reach would alleviate much of our food shortages but it does not solve the problem entirely. We will still need to rely on outsourcing or food from Essos.” Lysono Maar answered, he continued. “In any case the larger loan that what we initially foresaw will be needed. The Iron Bank is likely to dispatch one of their own representatives soon to renegotiate the terms of our loan and I can ensure you that these bankers look to capitalize.”

The Iron Bank had remained a constant thorn in their side that couldn’t be removed for fear of loss of life blood. Early in their reign, Daenerys had challenged the bankers and threatened to sack Braavos due their insistence that the new regency take on the Baratheon regime’s substantial debt. It was a deal that the Blackfyre had promised and one that the Iron Bank had wanted to see honored. Eventually the bankers had relented, perhaps only because war-torn Westeros was in need of a large loan to feed its people. Originally, they had been cautious on the new debt they were to take on but the collapse of much of the Riverlands farming capacity had introduced this new crisis and was subsequently forcing their hand.  “They look to bury us under a mountain of debt.” He flexed his sword hand.

“Figuratively, yes. We have no idea how long this winter will persist or if it is likely to worsen. Until it recedes, we will need to import food less our citizens starve. The bankers recognize this situation and see a unique opportunity to become so integral to our economy that they would effectively control it for years to come. Every major decision, project or building that you or your heirs would like to see come to fruition would need to be weighed against the existing debt.” Tyrion stated. He gathered the past years ledgers and set them aside in favor of an enormous book that Jon was reluctantly familiar with. His time as Lord Commander had somewhat prepared him for balancing a Kingdom though the demands of his new position were magnified considerably, and the consequences of his decisions were much further reaching. Daenerys was better suited to large ideas and conversing with lords and smallfolk alike, in many ways she reminded Jon of how Arya had been, but his wife had little patience for arithmetic. It fell to Jon to discuss logistics with Tyrion and they had spent many long days and nights slaving through the task of balancing the Kingdom’s pockets.

Daenerys bit her lip in frustration. Jon wondered if her first urge was to mount Drogon and demand favorable terms from the bankers. Before they met, she would have probably would have done just that if Tyrion was unable to talk her down, perhaps he would have done the same. “Tell him about Lys.” She said to Tyrion.

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see how Lys has any relevance.”

“Well, if you would quiet then perhaps our Hand could enlighten you.” Daenerys answered with a bite to her tone.

Tyrion intervened before they could argue. “The circumstances that preceded our Queen’s arrival to Westeros have presented a unique opportunity. As you know, the Iron Bank remains the preeminent bank of the known world. The vast majority of trade between the free cities or their merchants is handled by the Iron Bank’s mediators. Several of the free cities even maintain a portion of their treasuries in the bank’s vaults. This has remained the case for over a hundred years, but it wasn’t always like this. For a time, the world had a viable second option to the Bank of Braavos.”

“The Rogare Bank.” Daenerys finished for the Dwarf. She had spent vast quantities of time working her way through Dragonstone’s impressive library, so Jon wasn’t surprised that she knew the answer.

Tyrion smiled brightly. “Correct. For a time, the Rogare Bank was considered even wealthier than the Iron Bank. So wealthy in fact that they provided House Targaryen with a Princess consort, closely tying the Seven Kingdoms to the interest of a foreign bank.”

Aurane sipped on his wine and then said, “And later the bank collapsed after the mysterious deaths of Lysono the Magnificent and his brother, who both died within a day of each other.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile. Aurane rarely chimed in to matters other than those concerning their ships, but he did love challenging Tyrion’s logic when the opportunity presented itself.

Tyrion frowned but recovered quickly. “The point of my history lesson is that the Iron Bank has been surpassed before and it can be done again. Especially, since the havoc our Queen wreaked on the slave trade presented the appropriate climate for the Rogare’s to begin their rise again.”

Jon began to understand what Tyrion was proposing. _The Rogare Bank would likely agree to a loan with more favorable terms in exchange for the recognition that came with handling our business. What would the Iron Bank do in response?_

“After the Dance of Dragons, your family’s power had been reduced significantly and the kingdoms were in desperate need of funds to repair the damage wrought by the Dragons. The Rogare’s recognized this and wed Prince Viserys to their daughter to gain an inroad into Westerosi politics. Why not learn from the lessons of history? I have done my research and the Rogares do have daughters of marrying age. Beautiful, Valyrian and it would lessen our reliance on the Braavosi.” Lysono winked almost conspiratorially at Daenerys. Jon frowned when his wife winked back.

“And we cannot conduct business with this bank without a marriage?” Jon asked the room. Sam shifted nervously, and he wondered if his friend had conspired with Daenerys as well.

“The best alliances are sealed by marriages. Then our deal becomes more than business, it is an interest of family. Either way aligning ourselves with the Rogares seems a course of action that we should take, regardless of whether you favor one of their daughters. Additionally, the arrival of the Lyseni representative provide us the necessary cover to insulate these negotiations from the eyes and ears of the Iron Bank.” Tyrion answered. The words assuaged Jon, currently the Iron Bank was the lifeline they needed to prevent their kingdoms from starving. Complicating negotiations wasn’t something that he was keen on doing.

“A journey to Lys then to discuss terms before we reach our deadline with the Iron Bank?” Jon asked his wife. Daenerys nodded with a small smile. _She’s winning, and she knows it._ “Then where does Dorne and Arianne play any role in these discussions? They produce nowhere near enough food to be in comparison with the Reach and I doubt they have started a bank that I have yet to hear of.”

“I’ve met Arianne Martell you know. A beautiful girl to be sure, a bit naïve in some aspects but she knows where her power lies and wields it well. I believe she is a unique balance of her late father’s caution and her dead Uncle’s brazenness. It was why Aegon was so smitten with her.” Lysono drummed his purple painted nails against the table. “Likely why her abandonment of his cause was so devastating but if Dorne had chosen to resist the both of you then that war would have been a lot bloodier.”

“Beautiful yet a bit too old, don’t you think?” Aurane asked dismissively.

“She is nearer than thirty than we would like but well within childbearing years. What she brings to the table cannot be ignored as well. Dorne remains the most independent of the Seven Kingdoms and the most likely to be any source of contention. They pay the least amount of taxes and no royal survey has ever been taken of their wealth. Though what sets Dorne apart though is that any children you would have with Arianne would inherit the entirety of Dorne.” Tyrion stated. The rest of the council, including Daenerys looked to Jon to watch his reaction.

He mulled over the words, considering the information presented. His reluctance had yet to ebb entirely. There were words that he had that were only for his wife’s ears. After a time, he nodded, eager to change the subject, he turned to Sam and Marwyn. “Is there anything else of note before we conclude our meeting?”

The two scholars on their council had been tasked with discovering the reason why winter had yet to abate. They had hoped when the Others had been defeated, spring would bring an end to the long night. It had been years since the Others and their wights had drowned in the waters that rose to swallow the Neck. Thousands of men had perished in defense of the rest of the realm but despite their sacrifice, this long winter persisted, ever threatening to end the cycle of life in a slow death of cold and misery.

Sam was the first to speak. His friend had lost weight during his time in Oldtown and away from the Wall. Sam attributed the weight loss to the pack of children he and Gilly had running around the castle. The weight loss was so drastic that Sam was barely recognizable from when Jon had first sent him to Oldtown all those years ago. ”Admittedly nothing clear. Everything that we’ve read focuses on what happened before and after the Long Night but little else is expanded on the specifics of how the Long Night was ended.”

Jon frowned but the lack of new information was expected. Even with Daenerys and the combined force of their dragons and armies, the Others had seemed nearly unstoppable. The Others had killed every person in their path during their march south and it had taken all the effort that Jon and Daenerys could muster to slow their march to Moat Cailin. If it weren’t for Bran then Westeros would have been lost, perhaps the rest of the world would have been next.

With a flash of stained red teeth, Grand Maester Marwyn spoke. “Our tomes and knowledge here have been lost to both time and chaos. The Maesters’s in their folly sought to limit and destroy all traces of magic that they could find not even considering that the magic they feared might be our salvation. Samwell and I will need to look in the east for our answers.”

Jon could see the reluctance on Sam’s face. Despite his friend’s change in appearance, Samwell had always been the most comfortable with his nose buried in a book inside a familiar library. Dragonstone had been their home for over three years now and Braavos was hundreds of miles away. Jon spoke out before Sam could voice a protest. “Excellent idea. Sam, of course Gilly and your children can accompany you.”

Sam looked defeated, in a sharp contrast to Marywn’s look of glee. The Grand Maester was a short man with a thick neck and strong jaw. White hair protruded from his nose and ears, mixing with the salt and pepper hair that he wore long from his head. When he was happy the man looked like a crazed grandfather, but Jon knew that his appearance was misleading. Marywn had his own sort of genius, one that proved instrumental in preventing Daenerys’s dragons from falling into Euron’s hands.

“We’ve heard strange tidings in Essos. From Braavos to Qohor to Norvos and beyond. Tidings that I would like to investigate.“ Marwyn said cryptically.

Jon shared a look with Daenerys. Neither liked Marwyn’s often cryptic nature but they didn’t ask him to elaborate. The Maester had the tendency to keep his secrets close to his chest until he found a time relevant to unveil them. Sam had been born with greater patience than both of the monarchs and so he served as the link of rationality that tied Marwyn to their cause.

Their meeting didn’t persist for much longer before Jon called an end to it. He walked out of the chamber with his arm linked with his wife. “Eventful meeting.” He muttered.

Daenerys leaned against his side. “You still don’t seem enthused.” She looked up at him and they stopped their descent on the spiraling stair.

“I’d be happier if you suggested abandoning the throne and moving to the Summer Isles. Urrax could keep us cool when the days grew too warm and I’m sure Drogon and Rhaegal would love the change in scenery.” Jon offered.

Daenerys giggled at his suggestion. “Oh? And who would rule here while we spent our days in leisure?”

“Tyrion, I suppose. He does the job better than both of us ever could. He could marry Arianne and Margaery while I grow old and senile with my beautiful wife.”

Daenerys laughed, a musical note that was full of life and love. “I wonder what happened to the Northern Warrior I first met years ago? With smiles so rare that Rakharo and Jhogo joked you were made of ice. Abandoning his duty to his people would have been unthinkable to that man.”

Jon added to her laughter with a chuckle of his own. “That man was a fool. What is duty compared to a woman’s love?” He captured her lips in a kiss that he hoped conveyed his sincerity.

When they parted there was a haze was in Daenerys’s eyes. “Come my King. Our people missed you, let them see us together. Let us bring them hope. “

**A Windswept Isle:**

A girl padded carefully over the treacherous rocks and crags. Her long stick helped her maintain balance, even as the waves rose up on either side, crashing against the sharp rocks and spraying salt into the air. The wind whipped at her hair and her damp braid slapped against her face like an angry snake.

Above seabirds flew, their cries echoing into the skies. The girl wondered if the birds were placing their bets on whether she would lose her footing. All around her, crevasses in the rock foamed and bubbled from the sea rolling under them. Sometimes they spouted great jets into the air and the icy water would soak her furs. Yet, the thick under layer of whale fat prevented her from feeling the true bite of the cold.

Permafrost on the ground made her route even more treacherous but the girl was unafraid. She had walked these rocks for as long as she could remember. The girl’s father had journeyed with her many times, but he was gone now and so the girl only had Nin.

Nin padded forward ahead of her. Four paws made him far more surefooted and the dog constantly stopped to look over his shoulder at her. His shaggy grey fur was made white from the sea foam, but Nin didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he held the bucket between his jaws and wagged his tail.

If it weren’t for Nin, then the girl would have never made this trip. Her skinny arms couldn’t hold enough fish to justify the journey and the danger that came with it, something the girl’s Nan had argued many times, but Nin was strong and very smart too. He knew the ways to the secret pools better than she did for he had made the journey with the girl and her father since he was a pup.  

The pools were a secret that her father had only shared with her. He would have shared it with her elder brother too, but her Nan had told her that her elder brother hated their islands and had left as soon as he was old enough. The girl couldn’t blame him, Nan didn’t make for the best company and she had heard the stories of life in the city. Of the great mazes made by ancients and the ships that came bearing both tall men from the south and west as well as the short hairy men from the north and east. She had once overheard a sailor talk about the lands to the west and the dragons that ruled over both the land and the sky there. _What would it be like to fly?_ She wondered.

Her distraction caused her to slip and she cried out in surprise as she hit the ground. The buckets she balanced on her long stick scattered across the rocks. One disappeared down a hole in the rock, the other crashed bounced and rolled but mercifully stayed in sight.

Nin was with her in an instant. His wet nose pressed against her cheek in concern and the dog fitted against her as she balanced herself. She rubbed her arm, wincing as feeling returned to in pins and prickles. The sea mocked her, water spouting high in the air through a funnel in the ground.

She cried out as her long stick was blown off the rock and into the churning sea. The stick had belonged to her father once. Banded, polished and made of a strong wood that grew in the forests hundreds of miles south there was no replacement for it in the village’s marketplace. Tears ran down her cheeks, mixing in with the salt from the ocean’s spray.

Above the gulls and seabirds mocked her in a cacophony of sounds. With her stick and bucket gone, this trip was already a failure. She could imagine her Nan’s voice and the days of stern scolding that would follow upon her return. It didn’t matter that Nan was too old to fish for herself or do much else but trade the fish and shells that the girl caught, only the girl’s failure was a concern.

The girl bit her lip in frustration. She didn’t want to turn back empty handed but the bucket Nin carried was hardly worth the effort alone. It could hold enough only to feed them and Nan, but it would hold no shells or other treasures. _Useless girl!_ Her grandmother’s voice resounded in her head.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spied she the other bucket she had carried. Dark brown against the grey and black stone, the bucket rolled back and forth ominously near the edge of the cliff. Determination bloomed in her chest. Thirty yards lay between her and the treasure. Carefully, she traced her way across the sharp, rough stone, wary for patches of thin ice that lay like hidden traps. Nin padded along warily with her, his long tail, damp from the spray beat against the back of her legs.

She made it to the bucket with less effort than she expected and clutched its handle in her gloved hands. The sides of it were chipped but the base was undamaged. She scratched behind Nin’s ears in celebration and chanced a look backwards. Behind her was a fifty-foot drop into the frothing white seas punctuated with jagged peaks.

Above her the birds cried out and a sea eagle caught her eye. The gulls and smaller seabirds steered clear of the raptor and the raptor seemed to pay them little mind. It wheeled in the sky, circling higher and higher, before it dove suddenly with a screech. The girl cried out in surprise as the eagle hurtled towards her, talon first.

Nin snarled, and she swung the bucket at the attacking bird. Talons tore into her furs, stopped by the thick whale blubber underneath before they could pierce her skin. She slapped at the bird until its beak crunched on one of her fingers. Her companion barked and reared, trying to dislodge the bird from her shoulders. The eagle moved deftly avoiding Nin’s jaws as it pecked at her hood.

Her dog leapt at the bird slamming into her. She felt the ground slide under her feet before it gave away entirely, and she fell backwards. Blood pounded in her ears and it seemed she hung in the air for a small eternity before the water rushed up to seize her. Salt assaulted her taste buds as water poured down her throat. A surge of pressure careened her body into a column of rock, forcing the little air from her lungs.  

Desperately she tried clamoring up the rock, but the current was too strong, the rock too slick and she was wrenched away. Her arms and legs flailed but the surface of the water was too far away even with all the energy she poured into her struggles.  Another surge pushed her, this time closer to the surface. Her hands found purchase, this time not rock but wet fur. “Nin!” She cried out once she had breath.

Her faithful companion licked at her face in comfort and his big paws paddled in the churning current, holding both of them afloat with ease. She worked a hand tightly in his fur and use the other to help with their swim. The waves battered them against the rocks constantly and occasionally enveloped them entirely. Alone she would have panicked and likely drowned but Nin’s courage granted her strength. Together, they worked to keep their head above the waves.

Panic took her when she realized they were being taken out to sea, but Nin followed along with the current and she was forced to follow her companion’s lead. It seemed as if hours passed while they were in the water and her arms and legs grew stiff and tired. Even Nin began to slow, and they bobbed under the water more frequently than before.

She prayed the words that her grandmother had taught her and promised to treat her grandmother well even when she yelled and swatted at her with a stick of driftwood. She asked for her life and Nin’s and for a ship of fishermen to pull them in. Another surge took them and to her relief they were pushed towards the isles rather than away towards the deeper sea. With renewed vigor, she and Nin fought to stay afloat and this time their feet were aided by the current.

Land soon rushed to greet them, and she cried out in relief once her fingers gained sandy purchase. Girl and dog clawed up onto the beach and she didn’t have the energy nor the desire to push Nin away as licked excitedly at her face.  For several minutes she laid there, delighting as fresh air filled her lungs.  As the beat of her heart slowed in her chest, the cold began to seep into her limbs.

She pulled off her boots and gloves and winced as the cold curled around her fingers and toes. Digging her toes into rocky sand provided little relief but she needed time for her boots and gloves to dry. Nin stared at her worriedly and she patted his head to reassure them both.

The beach they were on was unfamiliar. She had never traveled this far, even with her father. Black cliffs rose high behind the small beach with several boulders littering the sand. Dismay filled her as her and Nin walked when she saw all the shells on the beach. This place was even better than the secret pools but without their buckets they could only carry too few.

Nin padded ahead of her, seemingly unfazed by their unfamiliar surroundings. Every so often he looked back to see if she was still following. The rocks threatened the bottoms of her bare feet, slowing her progress. As they drew closer to the cliffs the wind picked up, howling through the rock.

Nin barked and barked and then she heard him snarl. The girl picked up her pace, curious to see what had gained her dog’s attention. The cliff face curved over her and she squinted against the sudden darkness.

He stood near a lump of white flesh, barking insistently. As the girl drew closer she realized it was a body resting against the back wall of the shallow cave.

Her breath hitched, and heat rose in her cheeks when she realized it was a _nude man’s_ body. He was slumped against the wall, hair covering his face. A grievous wound was on his shoulder, partially scarred but showing the pink under flesh beneath his skin.

She snapped her fingers at Nin to quiet him. It took three snaps and insistence “Ssssh!” to silence her dog entirely. He looked away from the man and drew closer to her sides.

Curiosity took her, and she grabbed a small rock and threw it at the body. It bounced off the head. Not satisfied, she grabbed another but this time her rock produced a groan from the body. She cried out in fright and both she and Nin bolted to the edge of the cave.

She peeked her head and around the corner and listened as the man sucked in rasping breaths. He flopped against the ground almost boneless. Behind her Nin whined in pity or fear, she couldn’t decide.

Against her better judgement she drew closer to the man, all the while wishing she still had her long stick to poke him with. He was on his side and she watched his eyes crack open as she drew near.

She paused in wonder as two different colors greeted her. One blue like the sea on a bright day, the other a black, as dark as night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't committed on continuing this but if I did the likely pairing would have been either Jon/Dany/Arya or Jon/Dany/Val. Unfortunately for the Arianne fans, she was pretty distant and if I were to chose a girl from Dorne then it would have been Allyria Dayne.


End file.
